That does it.
Kellen lunges. He doesn’t even cock his arm—he just hurls himself forward, knocking Ace back off his feet and into the sand. It’s not even a punch at first, just raw momentum, both of them landing with a thump. Kellen swings first, a wild right thatbounces off Ace’s cheek. Ace absorbs it, rolling with the force, and jams an elbow hard into Kellen’s ribs.
No one moves to break it up. I’m so stunned it takes me a solid three seconds to realize I am screaming at them, voice hoarse and wild.
“Stop! Fuck, STOP IT—”
Neither hear me.
They’re two animals, sand and spit and flying fists. Kellen lands a left hook that snaps Ace’s head sideways so hard I hear his jaw crack, and Ace reels, comes up low and tackles Kellen by the waist, slamming him flat. They roll, Ace on top, then Kellen again, arms and legs strobing—wrestling for the advantage, nothing clean, nothing technical. Just weeks of rage bursting out in ugly, rage-filled bellows.
There is blood all down their faces, but that isn’t enough to stop them.
They manage to get to their feet, moving like wild animals hunting prey, circling each other. They are both panting, their chests rising and falling. Seeing them like this is terrifying, but it is also mesmerizing. Seeing them in their truest form, the way they move, the way their muscles flex, is incredible. I can see their skill, and I know nothing about fighting.
Ace drives a fist into Kellen’s nose, and the crack that radiates down the beach is horrifying. This is going to end badly. I lunge forward, attempting to stop them, but a hand closes around my shoulder and drags me back. Zeke. He shakes his head, eyes dark.
“Don’t. Let them go. They gotta get through it.”
I bite my lip, but I back down. I stand and watch two men try to murder each other on a tropical beach as the sun glows pink and the gulls circle, screeching like goddamn banshees.
“Oh my.”
Adrian’s voice comes from behind me, but I don’t turn.
He has arrived at the wrong time.
Ace’s face is a bruised wreck, and Kellen has blood pouring from his nose. Ace spits his own blood into the sand, wipes his mouth, then wipes Kellen’s blood off his knuckles with the hem of his shirt.
“If you ever put your hands on me again,” Ace says, his voice trembling with barely contained rage, “I’ll fuckin’ kill you.”
“Oh, he ismadmad,” Adrian whispers.
Word.
Ace turns and walks off, vanishing into the shadows of the tree line. I go after him, but the trees close thick and quick, and he’s already disappeared deep into the thick jungle. There’s no path, but I can hear him somewhere ahead—he’s not bothering to move quietly, snapping every branch that dares to block his way.
I don’t even know if it is a good idea to follow him.
I go after him anyway and find him at the edge of the lake. He’s kneeling, one elbow propped on his knee, the other hand dipping into the water and washing the blood off his face.
“Whatever you’re goin’ to say, just say it,” he mutters, not even turning to see who it is.
“You want to tell me what the hell that was?”
He doesn’t answer.
He looks out over the water, and I realize he isn’t going to say anything.
“You want to kill each other over a fucking fire?” I ask. “Because if you keep it up, that’s what will happen.”
“He dares to fuckin’ put hands on me, then he gets what’s coming.”
“Until it goes too far. You know, better than anyone, that one punch can kill, Ace.”
He glances over at me, his face darkening with bruises already. “You think I don’t fuckin’ know that?”
“Then why do it?” I say, my voice going higher than I’d like. “Why risk it all for fucking male ego?”
